Harry Potter: Darling Dursley
by HerFinestHour
Summary: Darling would, at times, wonder how her parents came to choose such an absurd name, in this day and age, when her twin was graciously spared from the embarrassment. She doesn't hate it, but it has weighed heavily on her all her life, setting greater expectations than she would've liked for herself. And isn't it amusing, that despite her name, she is not as loved as she should be?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _"Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but always paddling like the dickens underneath."_

* * *

Darling Dursley was the complete opposite of her twin brother. She was smart, polite, and far from the lazy, obese pig everyone couldn't believe was her older brother. Ever the sweetheart, she truly lived up to her name. The teachers were very pleased with her; the ideal, model student. Her parents took pride in having such a perfect, normal daughter. Even Dudley was overshadowed by his sister sometimes, because Darling was their father's favourite, and Uncle Vernon was especially doting on his youngest child. That was how her name had come about, Uncle Vernon had mentioned once. It had been a shock to Harry, when he found out that _Vernon_ of all people, had been the one to name his cousin. He had thought it was Aunt Petunia that named her so, considering she had been the one to nickname Dudley Duddeykins.

Harry seemed to recall them both being nearly inseperable as children, but that was likely his own imagining. The way they were now, it was as if they weren't even siblings. They were complete opposites. And Dudley hated his sister.

Admittedly, he used to think her name was stupid, that she would grow up spoiled and snobby like little _Diddykins,_ or _Dudleykins_. He hated her, even. For being so carefree and oblivious to his pain. For never helping him when he was being mentally abused by her family.

Then he eventually realized he could not fault her. That she had no control over Dudley, or her parents. He didn't hate her so much then. But some part of him still resented her for never trying to stop them. She held so much influence over her family - all she had to do was say something. She was Darling, after all. He remembered, all too clearly, how she befriended him when they were toddlers. Convinced him he was not alone, only to abruptly change overnight, and leave him alone. Again. Nowadays, they rarely spoke. Harry mostly ignored her, and when they did speak it was the briefest of simple conversations. _How have his studies been, is he feeling well, has he eaten._ Darling _tried_ , he supposed, but Harry wished she wouldn't pretend to care for him. He was fine on his own. He always had been. He was the misfit, the weirdo who should have never been born. She was the princess, the girl everyone either wanted to either be or befriend.

Darling was the Belle of the neighbourhood. Attending an elite all-girl's academy as a top student brought lots of prestige to the Dursleys - especially when she entered on a scholarship that was even more difficult to attain than getting into the school itself. She was pretty, too, Harry thought. In a natural sort of way. With clear skin, rich brown locks and green eyes that mirrored his, Harry was sure Darling could've passed off as his fraternal sister. He, at least, would've believed it. (And a little part of him wished she was, so he'd have someone as kind as her who loved him.)

She was his favourite relative - she left him alone and didn't torment him like the rest of her family. When she spoke to him, she didn't call him boy or freak or anything unpleasant. She called - calls, him, by his given name. The one his parents gave him, the name he cherished so much he absolutely detested it when people called him anything else or misused it. Did her own dishes, folded her own clothes and cleaned her own messes, on the insistence that she wanted to be independent. He was sure that if they didn't have a washer, she would've personally washed her own laundry as well. When this was first declared, Petunia and Vernon were quite baffled, but eventually got used to it, accepting that their little sweetheart was growing up to be an independent young lady.

People were drawn to her, like moths to a flame. She was popular, beloved, and sometimes Harry envied that part of her. Not once had he been praised, or appreciated, or _loved_ , and his social circle consisted of only himself.

And the rats and spiders in the attic, he supposed.

Yet, he supposed that it was reasonable for everyone to be so enamored with someone like Darling. She was kind, and humble, and so much like her name. Vernon had not been wrong when he named her Darling.

But sometimes he wondered if it was all merely an act.

Darling Dursley was many things, but simple was _definitely_ not one of them.

To be honest, Harry was a little unnerved by her at times, because she remained so eerily calm in even the most upsetting situations that he wondered if she was secretly plotting out a painful, most unpleasant revenge, but he soon learnt that Darling Dursley was nothing to be afraid of.

Unless you got on her bad side, of course. That was a whole new thing - a story better left for another time.

 _(Perhaps never.)_

* * *

 _Elsewhere_

In the halls of St. Rose's Academy, Darling Dursley strode through it casually, confidently.

But alone. No matter that there were girls coming up to her, inviting her to lunch and parties and shopping, or greeting her a little too cheerily when they saw her. No, these were not her real friends.

Ironically, none of them were.

She was constantly surrounded by people, admired, praised. But she was not blind, or arrogant enough to think that she was _beloved_ by everyone. She would have to be a fool. Nobody was nice without an ulterior motive. It had always been that way with her.

She was considered one of the wealthier girls in her school, yet not once had she flaunted her wealth. Her Aunt Marge and Daddy spoiled her, that much she knew, gifting her with branded bags, shoes and pretty clothes. Yet she had always tried to wear out her things before she moved on to the rest, until her mother reprimanded her for being unappreciative of her gifts. Darling had been forced to rotate the bags she used, and wear her expensive shoes and accesories to school even though she didn't really want to.

Safe to say, she was immediately noticed by her classmates. It was humiliating, to walk by people and hear them mutter how much of a snob she was, or how gaudy she was.

Even more so when said girls approached her days later to hang with the 'cool' kid after Darling managed to pull off the look, confidently, with a touch of her own style.

She had cried miserably alone in the school's garden shed later on.

Later on, she learnt how to distance herself, how to tell if people were after something, or if they truly wanted to be her friend. Safe to say, there was not much of the latter. Oh yes, there had been a few who didn't care for her wealth. Some of them were shy, while others found themselves pressured or envious of other aspects of herself. Some were warded off by the girls that hung around her like wolves waiting to pounce, intimidated and fearing for their peaceful school life.

Darling didn't mind. She was kind to these people when she could, but otherwise limited her interaction with anyone. She knew it would only be a matter of time before they began to leave her as well.

Like her friends. Her mother. Her brother. Her cousin.

Now, Darling was far from perfect. She was spoiled by her own parents and relatives. She was a little shorter than most girls, and she got incredibly upset when people _folded her books_ and left creases along the spine of it. She hated brushing her hair, and hated math even more. And she was petty, more so than she let on.

So she tried to better herself, because her parents thought she was perfect. How could she let them down? She walked with her back straight, drank her milk, ate her vegetables. She courteously reminded people who borrowed her books to handle them with extreme care (and kept her favorites at home) and wrapped them nicely. She washed her hair with conditioner and kept it shoulder-length, so it wouldn't be too tedious to maintain, and she studied very hard for math because she was supposed to be a straight As student. She forgave people even when she didn't want to, convincing herself that they deserved another chance. Even when they didn't.

She strove to become perfect, because that was what was expected from her.

People admired her, respected her, some feared her even. But there was also jealousy, dislike, resentment even. When was it, Darling wondered, that she started eating lunch alone? When was it that she realized her former friends had been using her, for her wealth or smarts, or to get pager and telephone numbers of cute students from the neighboring boy's school? When was it, that she had to start relying on herself, and not 'friends' or her parents? When had her brother begun pushing her away?

And as she wondered this, her smile never faded. She smiled back at the ones who greeted her, nodding every now and then, bowing to teachers and staff, looking everywhere but people's eyes. Darling knew what she would find when she met their gazes - insincerity, lies, and false kindness.

Darling Dursley had a few more years in this school - she could survive on her own.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Day It all Began**

"Wake up, wake up wake UP!" Darling barely had time to even open her eyes before her blanket was yanked harshly off, pulling her along with it onto the ground. Her brother - the perpetrator - stood grinning triumphantly.

"Happy Birthday, _nerd_." Dudley sneered, "Mummy wants you down in five minutes. We're going to the Zoo. Now hurry up - they won't let me open my presents till you're down too." He left her room before she could say anything, and she winced as she heard him stomping down the stairs rapidly. Poor Harry.

Goosebumps prickled at her skin as the cold morning air crept over her now unprotected self, and she was so very tempted to crawl back into the warm embrace of her blanket. Had she not known better, of course. Darling was never late.

She got ready in record time, opting to wear the pale yellow sundress Aunt Marge had mailed over a week ago. _It looks_ _hideous,_ she thought, lips pressed tightly against each other at she stared at her reflection in the mirror discontentedly. Sure, the dress was pretty, and she was exaggerating just a smidge, but she had never been fond of the colour yellow.

The girl did suppose she was grateful that it was a pastel yellow and not the neon, blinding sort.

She hurried down the stairs quickly, expertly pulling her hair into a neat braid and snapping an elastic onto it. She stumbled when her foot caught onto something as she entered the kitchen, frowning as the elder of the twins pulled his leg back before any of their parents caught him. "Morning Daddy," she pecked the man on his cheek as she passed his chair, wrapping her arms around what she could of his neck. "Morning, Princess. Big day today - and look at you! All grown up. Daddy's going to have to start beating boys off soon," he laughed, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. She bristled at the feeling of his moustache tickling her, laughing demurely.

"Nothing like that, Daddy. Good morning, Mother." She hugged her mother cheerily. Petunia's lips pulled into a thin smile, and while Darling could see that her mother was looking at her, it felt as if her gaze passed through her like light would glass.

 _That's alright_ , she told herself.

She took a seat opposite Dudley, beaming at her older twin. "Morning, Dudders. Happy Birthday."

The blonde gave a curt reply, and Darling pretended that the twinge in her heart wasn't there.

"Happy Birthday, dear," Her mother parrive during after her, then snapped at Harry to hurry up with the cooking. Darling smiled bitterly at the ground, and like always, it went unnoticed. Only Dudley saw, yet he may as well not have with how ignorant he wasn't of her feelings.

 _Its alright_ , she thought again.

* * *

Piers Polkiss joined them on the trip, much to Darling's dismay. He had harbored a crush on her from the moment they first met, and while it was not terribly obvious to her parents, it was blatantly so to the children. On the bright side, Harry was coming along too. Perhaps the trip would be her chance to better their already strained relationship.

"Morning, Mr. And Mrs. Dursley. Happy Birthday, Dudley," Polkiss greeted, and presented Dudley with a store-wrapped gift, to which Dudley tore into without hesitation and pulled out an action figurine. Darling rolled her eyes simultaneously with her cousin, and they shared knowing glances at one another which, in all honesty, had Darling feeling rather positive about today. If there was one thing they could bond over, it was their mutual dislike for Dudley's choice in friends.

"And hello, Darling. Y-You look great! Happy Birthday to you too. I hope you like this gift," he said as they all piled into the car, and he presented her with a little box. Darling graciously thanked him, inwardly groaning at how he flushed red, and then tucked it into the pocket at the back of the driver's seat. He looked disappointed when she didn't open it immediately, but Petunia intervened upon noticing how down Polkiss seemed and suggested that Darling open it, insisting that she was curious. Piers beamed immediately, and Darling didn't have the heart to say no, so open it she did. Harry glanced over from the corner of his eyes, curious.

It was a heart ring, and the brunette wanted very much to throw it out the window.

Harry shook in the seat next to her, head deliberately turned to the window so she couldn't see his expressions. She still could, because his reflection was in he window, and she could him her younger cousin struggling to contain his laughing, his face contorted and his palm casually pressed against his lips.

In all honesty, she didn't know what to say, and panicked when Piers asked for her opinion. "Why... It's... Very cute. Thank you, Piers. I shall take care of it."

The bright look in his eyes made Darling scoot over in her seat towards Harry, and she was more than glad that Dudley had chosen to sit between her and Piers to not so subtly separate his best friend from his sister. He was possessive like that, and Darling knew he didn't like it when she spoke to his friends. She knew, that her brother was worried that she would take them away from him.

 _'I'd never do that to him.'_

* * *

It happened so quickly, Darling nearly had a heart attack.

Their trip to the zoo started off like everyone else's. They got their tickets, went in, and split up to look around. The children started off ahead eagerly, while Darling's parents lagged behind, taking time to look at and read about the various animals displayed.

Harry hadn't spoken much to her like she'd hoped, but they had at least shared a somewhat meaningful conversation on gorillas (and how Dudley instantly came to mind when they saw one, earlier on). Darling had nearly forgotten that this was Harry's first time coming to the zoo. They'd always left him behind, and Harry had spent his entire life cooped up at home. Like a prisoner, a part of her whispered to herself.

Darling didn't visit the zoo often, and for good reason. The caged animals made her incredibly uncomfortable, and she had no idea why. She felt awful, and imcredibly sensitive. These animals were once free - some of them, at least. They belonged in the wild to roam freely, or at least deserved bigger enclosures.

Still, she had to admit that some of these creatures were simply beautiful. The giraffes, the lions, the mice-deer... Personally, she liked the mice-deer the most, because of how adorable and small the little things were. She regretted having left her sketchbook at home. Animals were so aesthetically pleasing sometimes, especially in drawings.

They visited the reptile house last, and Darling was absolutely mesmerized. Their newest addition to the house was a coral snake, and Darling hurried over to it the moment she set her eyes on it, green eyes bright with wonder. It was young, a baby, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for it. It's beady little eyes stared back at her, and for the briefest of moments she felt the sorrrow and longing it did. "You poor baby," she murmured, fingers pressing against the glass.

The Dudley came and got his face all up in the glass, and the baby coral snake slithered off, frightened by her brother's ungraceful appearance.

"Dudley!" She snapped, brows furrowed. "You scared it off."

Her brother scoffed, shoving her out of the way. "Whatever. It's so puny and ugly - like Harry," he sneered, brushing her off. Darling frowned, opening her mouth to protest, but Dudley had long gone.

She waited by the coral snake's enclosure for a little while, only to be dissapointed when it did not reappear again. Moving on to the other exhibits, she strode over to Harry's side upon realizing he was alone, recognizing the snake as a boa constrictor. Harry was conversing with someone, and she looked around to see if she had unintentionally interrupted their conversation. Then she realized there was no one around.

The snake stirred, and Harry was in the midst of turning to face her when suddenly, Dudley came over and unceremoniously shoved Harry out of the way, only with more force than he had used with her. "Dudley, stop pushing—Wait, Dudley, the glass!"

Darling watched in pure, unadulterated horror as her brother's hands landed on nothing, and he toppled headfirst into the snake tank. Piers jumped back, screaming, and Darling rushed forward to catch her brother, doing the only reasonable thing she could think of then.

She yanked on Dudley's arm just before he could fully fall into the tank, and used her body weight and momentum to send him falling backwards, out of the tank. Unfortunately, her brother was heavier than her, more so than she had expected, and instead she was the one who took a nosedive into the water. She heard more screaming, and all she could think was _shut up Piers_.

She resurfaced as soon as she gathered her bearings, cold and wet, and headed towards the glass. Harry stood by the side, equally as shocked as she was when she walked into the glass that _had and had not been there earlier._

Dudley was, much to her relief, next to Harry, on the ground, and Piers screamed so loudly for her parents that she could hear him from inside the tank.

As she finally processed her current predicament, she grew more nervous. She was in a _tank_ , with no visible way out. A snake tank at that.'Wait, if I'm in here, then— oh, _thank god_.' She placed a hand over her nervously beating heart at the sight of the snake outside of the , until her parents came over and started screaming themselves.

Darling was nervous. Frightened, maybe, just a smidge. Yet as soon as she saw her flustered parents, she bunched up her fists on the hem of her skirt and put on a shaky brave smile. It would not do to worry her parents, and she was eleven years old today. She was a grown girl, and mature, and she wouldn't scream just for being stuck in a snake tank.

"Mum, Daddy..."

"Oh my poor baby! Don't worry, Darling, we'll get you out of there!" Her mother proclaimed determinedly, and immediately, like _magic,_ the fear in her settled a little. Mummy made everything better.

Her father pressed himself up against the glass, evidently worried. She smiled assuringly at him.

"I'm fine, Mumm—"

"My darling boy! Are you alright? Oh, poor thing... Hush, hush, Mummy's here. Mummy's here."

 _Mummy's here, Mummy's here. Don't cry, baby._

Darling blinked, her smile receding as she watched her mother coddle her older brother. Her brother, who was on the floor. Dry. Her brother, who was not stuck in a snake tank. Who likely had no more than a bruise on his rump, and not a stinging scrape on his shin and a sore wrist.

Distracted, she failed to notice the murderous glare her father directed at Harry, instead turning away from the scene in front of her entirely, until Piers arrived with the security and staff, who did a little less panicking and more helping when they saw a helpless little girl standing in a snake tank. A crowd had gathered somewhat, but Darling was too preoccupied with her thoughts to care. She hadn't noticed Piers leave to get help, she thought.

Inattentive. _Just like her mother_.

* * *

Although Darling was wrapped up in a towel, she still felt cold. She began shivering on the car ride home, but remained quiet because she didn't want her father turning down the air-conditioner any further. It would get too stuffy and unbearable for everyone else.

Piers kept shooting her worried glances every now and then, and it was nice to know that he was actually concerned. And wasn't it weird, that her brother's best friend had more humanity in him than her own _blood-related_ sibling himself? He hadn't said a word since they got into the car, only cast guilty glances at her. She found some comfort in that, though. At least he still cared. Her mother would take peeks at her from the front mirror, but otherwise remained silent as well, aside from the usual assurings of "We're almost home, dear."

Darling wanted to ask _which one_.

Harry, however, seemed guiltiest of them all. And worried. Afraid. Darling figured it was because he had something to do with the glass disappearing, and her father. And he didn't look at her either, but she could see his eyes dart up every now and then, checking on her reflection in the mirror. She sighed, trembling hands pulling the towel around her closer to her body.

She drifted off to sleep eventually, and could've sworn she felt someone lean towards her and press himself against her side, providing more of the warmth she desperately sought after.

* * *

A/N: I forgot the disclaimer in the Prologue, so let's just pop this in here. I'll do a little intro as well.

The Harry Potter franchise is the original work of author J.K. Rowling, an admirable, mighty imaginative woman with hundreds of copies sold worldwide. I do not own any of the characters except Darling Dursley.

Now that that's aside, hello everyone! I'm Hour. Thank you for giving this story a chance - I hope not to disappoint. I'm more or less a newbie to writing fanfiction, so forgive me if my plot or characters aren't well developed. On another note, I would greatly appreciate reviews, be it casual discussion, tips, questions or constructive criticism. Thanks.

Till the next chapter!

Edit: Slight error here, there were changes I made before publishing that are strangely enough not in tthis chapter. I'll have to see if I can find the correct one, otherwise please bear with me whilst I work on it again.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2: A letter for Harry._

 _"What if I fall?"_

 _"But oh, my dear, what if you fly?"_

* * *

Daddy had been cross, so cross with Harry that he'd sent him to his sorry excuse for a bedroom with no meals or chance to explain himself. Darling felt absolutely horrid. He was scrawny enough, and such punishments were already far too common for him when he deserved none of it. Sure, he was odd, and strange things happened around him, but what right did that give Daddy to punish him so? He was just a boy, just a little boy no older than Dudley or herself, not ill-willed or horrid in any way.

Darling would've gladly taken his punishment for herself. She could go a night without supper or dinner. She tried it once, skipped a few meals just to see how it felt, just to feel the surface of Harry's pain. To see how long she could go, and in a way punish herself for her lack of ability to do anything for him.

It went on for a few days before she put herself in the hospital. It was, admittedly, very silly and uncharacteristic for her with the maturity she possessed, but at the end of the day she was still a child herself. Just a little smarter, a little wiser than most her age.

That night, after the crazy day the Dursleys had, she snuck a sandwich and a stash of biscuits to Harry; left them outside his door very quietly with a box of juice. Poor substitutes for a proper meal, but those were all she could manage without getting too suspicious. And Harry, well-meaning and sweet, had almost blown it the next day when he kept looking at her like she'd grown a third head, trying to figure out if she had been the one to leave him food.

Darling had awkwardly avoided him for the most part of the day, where everyone could see them. Everyone else chalked it off to trauma, pinning the blame of the zoo incident on poor Harry. She wasn't sure how to help, so keeping quiet and remaining normal enough to please the rest of her family had been her best option.

They grounded him for the longest time.

* * *

In the following days to come from that disastrous, birthday-trip-to-the-zoo gone wrong, Darling was honestly at quite a loss. Anyone would be, given the situation.

First, the string of mysterious letters and pretty feathers that Daddy and Mummy were absolutely livid with. Who were they from, and how did the sender have so many owls to spare?

Why was Harry not allowed to touch them? Why were they disposed of, shredded or burnt as soon as they were found?

Those were Harry's letters. She knew, from the moment Daddy ripped them from her cousin's grasp and forbid him from beating them. The word freak surfaced a lot as of late as well, a harsh name they only ever used when they were reminded of something the children weren't privy to. Darling didn't know what, but she was fairly sure they were hiding something. Something big, something that might just empower Harry Potter and free him from her family's twelve-years old tyranny. Or at least, give him hope in this sad, sorry circumstance he'd been forced to live and grow up in.

Darling finally had a chance to start making it up to Harry, to work on that decade's worth debt of apologies she and the rest of her kin owe to the boy. She owed this to her Aunt Lily and Uncle James Potter, his parents who surely loved him but had not been able to live long enough to show that. She owed this, to the little boy she used to play with, wonder-eyed and precious with a smile she had not seen in years. To her first, dearest friend, after her distanced brother.

Daddy had been prepared, however. Getting to the mail hadn't been an easy task, especially when Dudley caught on to what she was up to. Exposed her he did, and now Mummy was aware too, but Darling had been lucky enough that their father believed her when she admitted (lied) about being curious. _Nothing you should concern yourself with, poppet._

Except it was, because this was unwarranted injustice towards her cousin. She had been sitting idle for far too long, and it was time to do something for him. This was easy enough a task that she ought to accomplish.

And it was. Her bedroom had windows, and as soon as she decided on opening them just a little, letters appeared in a neat pile the very next day. She left treats for the owls, adorable creatures that she spent hours looking at, mesmerised by the patterns on their feathers. She'd never seen so many up close before. Getting it to Harry was the challenge. She couldn't slide it to him in homework or books without arousing suspicion, for she was supposedly the smarter of the twins and had never pushed homework onto Harry like Dudley used to, until his grades began paying the price for it. Meanwhile, Harry's improved thanks to the extra practice.

She could slip it under the door, leave it there for him to find, but firstly, there was a risk of either of her parents or Dudley somehow coming across it. Bad luck seemed to strike at the most unexpected of times, and she wouldn't want to get Harry in trouble.

Admittedly, the brunette was also hoping for a chance to speak with her cousin. A proper conversation that she'd been hoping for for years on end, granted by this slim window of opportunity. She just wanted her cousin back, wanted Harry back. Dudley had shut her out, and she didn't see any chance of him letting her back in anytime soon. Mummy–Mummy was– well..

Daddy loved her, that she did not question, but there was something she wanted that none of her direct family could give. Acknowledgement, understanding. They were of a different frequency, and it was so, so tiring and lonely to simply co-exist alongside loved ones instead of truly being a family. Darling had never felt like she belonged, no matter what she did. Perhaps it was simply due to the onset of puberty, these thoughts and insecurities of hers, but it felt like her identity had always been unclear to her. From childhood to pre-adolescence, this untangible darkness has always followed her, trailing after the child like a phantom, a shadow.

Harry was her last shot at feeing human, at having an anchor. It sounded selfish, and she supposed it was. Did she truly love him, care for him, as a cousin should, or was she merely using him to satisfy her own needs?

Regardless, tonight, she would act. Before this week was over, Harry would get his letter. He deserved that, at least. A small bit of consolation in the crapout draw the lottery of life had given him.

Darling tip-toed down the stairs in the dead of the night, confident that Dudley was deeply asleep with the way he snored, her father's own joining his in a horrible symphony that she was sure her mother plugged her own ears in order to sleep through. Once safely downstairs, she hurried over to his door, lavender nightgown brushing at and tickling her ankles. "Harry," whispered Darling, light taps on his rickety door meant to catch his attention. "Harry, it's me, Darling. Open up."

It opened with a light click, and shocking green eyes peered out, curious and uncertain. She immediately handed him the letter, and it took him a moment to realise what it was. A smile lit his face, but it was quickly followed by a confused frown, thick brows pulling together as figurative gears whirred in his head.

"This is mine," he stated, disbelieving. In all his years of being alive, no one outside this family and their circle of friends knew of his existence. Harry didn't have any friends or living relatives that cared enough to write to him, or knew of his existence under the tiny cupboard in Privet Drive.

"Yours, Harry. All yours. Read it." Encouraged his cousin, unreadable emotion glittering in bright green eyes not unlike his own. They were like little cats, come out to play when everyone had gone to bed, eyes twinkling like stars in the dark blanket of night.

His letter.

The letter that he wasted no time in opening.

Words, ink on parchment, greeted him.

* * *

 _ **HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

* * *

Harry blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened and closed in mimicry of a goldfish, and Darling smiles at the sight. Harry was so silly sometimes.

"What does it mean, they await my owl?"

She peered over at his letter, and now it was her turn to frown. Was this some sort of horrible prank that Dudley's goons were pulling? A school for witchcraft and wizardry? Order of Merlin? There were no such orders in Britain. _And what was a Mugwump?_

Harry was being bullied at school. She knew that, had known since ages ago. This strange letter was fishy. Harry had been having strange dreams as of late. Perhaps Dudley had squealed of them to his friends, made a joke or five at Harry's expense. But why go through all the trouble of so many owls? This was far too elaborate of a prank, and she highly doubted any of them could pull it off regardless of their wits, or lack thereof, combined.

"Have you met someone, Harry? Outside the house. Outside school." She knew he'd been spending whatever time he could away from the Dursley home. Not that she could blame him.

"No. No one wants to be around me, and I don't go talking to strangers."

She almost winced. _'I want to be around you, Harry.'_

 _"_ Did you apply for a club of sorts? A school? How do they know to find you? That you live in a cupboard under the stairs?"

"N-No. I didn't do anything, I swear." Stammered the boy, hands held up in surrender. Darling inwardly cursed. "Sorry, Harry. I'm not mad." She said, hand raising and dropping in a split-second struggle to decide between comforting him and not. The latter had obviously been her decision. He nodded, eyeing her warily with his chin tilted down. Sometimes, Darling realised, she could be so insensitive.

She sighed, running a hand through her chocolate curls. "Do you want to write back?"

"How?"

She paused. Owl. It was practically an owlery upstairs, on the roof. Surely they could take the letter back? Was that why they were outside, waiting serenely like stone golemns in the first place? For Harry's reply?

"Write. You know how to write letters, don't you? A reply, like we learnt in school."

He did. "Will we use the owls outside?" Darling puffed out her chest proudly. "Smart boy. Pen your reply, and hand it to me. They're outside my window too."

"You're helping me?" He asked, surprise in his voice. Darling Dursley, helping Harry Potter? He wasn't pigheaded like her male counterpart—he knew Darling had been the one leaving him snacks when they refused him his meals, that the one nagging at Dudley not to stomp down the stairs every morning was her, but never had he expected any direct involvement. She could get in so much trouble for this, could lose Uncle Vernon's favour towards her. Handing Harry Potter his letter, talking to him in the dead of night.

"It's the right thing to do."

Oh. Of course. Harry swallowed, and quickly went to search for pen and paper. "Quickly now, Harry," she urged, and he penned down his name, hand hovering above the page as he contemplated what to write.

"What do I write? Do I accept?" He looked towards Darling, who looked equally as unsure.

"Uhm." This was risky. The people behind this could be criminals for all they knew. Child kidnappers, bad people that Harry had someone caught the eyes of.

Yet what if magic _was_ real? What if all their childhood fantasies and stories were true? Harry's oddity would be explained, all those moments of strange happenings and unexplainable mishaps finally accounted for. It would explain the snake tank incident, and the times where glass and lightbulbs suddenly shattered, when things suddenly went South with no clear reason.

"Well," she started, trying to come up with a good enough reason to convince. "They already know where we live," she murmured, meant only for herself. "Do you believe this, Harry?"

Harry paused. He was indescribably happy to have received a letter, his first letter, from people he hadn't known, from a school that sounded far from believable. What if this was all a hoax?

"Do you believe in magic?"

What if this was all a lie? His hopes would've been raised for nothing.

Darling bit at her lip. Harry was so eager, so starved of hope and anything good in life. Was the world really so cruel, to deny him again? This could be his chance at freedom. A better life. If Hogwarts existed, she prayed it did, he could have a place to belong to. They could help this poor boy who deserved so much better.

She broke the silence. "I think I believe in magic, Harry."

Hopeful eyes looked towards her, growing brighter by the minute. "You do?"

She smiled, uneasy churning in her guts. She didn't. She lied, as she always did. But this was for Harry's sake. A little dream she could entertain, try to keep up, for as long as possible, if only so he would keep that look in his eyes a little longer.

"I do," Darling agreed firmly, "And I do believe, Harry James Potter, that you're a wizard."

Harry Potter smiled, smiled at Darling, like he hadn't in years.

* * *

The owls took the letter, sealed into an envelope Darling managed to find, and the spam mail stopped coming. Mummy and Daddy had been absolutely delighted to find all the owls gone, vanished overnight, and Harry and Darling kept what they had done a secret. Life went on, and the little lantern that carried Harry's rekindled hope flickered on steadily, wavering ever so slightly every now and then.

Then Harry's eleventh Birthday approached, but in his anticipation for a reply even he forgot about it. It had never been a memorable enough occasion at the Dursley's anyways. Only Darling remembered, and even then she dared not bring it up in the day when the Dursley's might hear make his day extra unpleasant, or ruin the sacredness of it.

Each year, Darling gave him a little gift, left outside his door in the dead of night. Sometimes, they were books, or stationery, sometimes even candy or little trinkets or toys she saved up for. Nothing fancy or too big and eye-catching, of course, god knew how attentive Dudley could be when it came to Harry. This year, she'd saved up enough for a good scarf. Green, like Harry's eyes. Simple, unprinted, but enough to keep Harry warm.

Dudley also did not like green, so there was that. From his skewed sense of fashion no doubt inherited from their parents, he and them would likely find the green scarf a horrendous piece. It wasn't anything fancy or trendy, but she felt it suited him just find. Simple and elegant. She just hoped they paid no attention to it, and that if they did they'd believe her lie about it being from the cupboard. An old, unvalued gift that Dudley hadn't wanted and left up there for the moths that they could afford to spare on Harry.

It had been folded up nicely, sitting under her bed in a nice little package. Night fell, and brought with it a storm, thundery showers that Dudley and Daddy still managed to sleep through. Only Harry and Darling remained awake, one restless and unable to sleep, the other waiting to present a gift.

Darling had only set one foot outside her room when the doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking that surely woke the entire house up. She cursed in a most unrefined manner, and made a run for her own room, parcel sliding under her bed again as she slid back under the covers. Next door, she heard the adults stiring, heavy thumps on wooden floors as they tumbled out of bed and plodded in the halls, down the stairs and to the door.

She heard Dudley's door swing open as well, and petulant shouting that may as well have woken the entire neighbourhood. It was a good thing there was that storm outside.

Sliding out of bed (again), she hurried out as well, taking care to look as if she'd been rudely awoken herself. Darling glided down the stairs with a lazy grip on the banisters, eyes narrowed on purpose to look as if they were still in the midst of opening.

Daddy answered the door, yelled at whoever was outside, then stumbled back as it swung open to reveal a giant, bearded man that had Dudley and Mummy cowering back in fear.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." He grumbled, beady black beetles for eyes roaming the room in search of something.

"Am lookin' fer Harry Potter. Go' his reply. Gla' yer lettin' him atten' Hogwarts, Dumbledore was worrie' ye woul'n't," The man said, and Darling immediately recognised the names Dumbledore and Hogwarts from the letter.

"HE WILL DO NO SUCH THING! WE DID NOT ALLOW THIS!"

Harry's cupboard door swung open, earning him a yell from the man of the house to get back in. One look at the hairy giant and he froze, eyes wide in both poorly hidden awe and fear.

"An' here's Harry!" remarked the giant. His fierce, shadowy face stretched upwards in a big, goofy smile, and Darling suddenly found him far less intimidating than his looks presented him. He stepped in, to most of the Dursley's dismay and against Daddy's protests, sitting himself on a couch that seemed to strain under his great weight.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the stranger. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

He knew Aunt Lily and Uncle James?

Daddy made a funny rasping noise, and demanded that the uninvited houseguest leave at once. "Fetch me my gun," he told mummy, who hurriedly disappeared and left Dudley alone. Dudley hurried to the nearest human wall available; Darling.

She sighed.

"Anyway, Harry," began the giant, gesturing for Harry to come over, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right." He produced a flattened box, and Harry opened it to reveal what looked like cake. Mildly squashed, but the words on it were clear as day. Green icing spelled out the words he wanted to hear most, on this special day meant to celebrate his entering the world, surrounded by loved ones that Harry did not have.

 _Happy Birthday Harry._

Harry looked up at the giant, at a loss for words.

"Who are you?"

The behemoth of a man gave a deep chuckle. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Petunia Dursley returned with the gun. Darling stared warily at the weapon Daddy held, safety turned off and ready to shoot at any moment.

"Daddy," she warned.

"Quiet, Darling. This man is dangerous," was her answer, but she was not having it. "No, Daddy, that _gun_ is lethal. If he wanted to hurt us he would've already. He's here for Harry," she said, and Hagrid hummed in agreement.

"See, tha' lass is smar', got brain' unlike yeh lot. Sure yer family?" He sneered. Daddy sputtered at the insult. "They're my family, Hagrid, sir." She said, not quite approving of his unkind words. You could be low, or you could be polite and a better person.

"I'll get you tea," she said, to Mummy and Daddy's horror. Dudley just stared, because the absurdity of the situation and his sister's nonchalance didn't seem to make sense at all, in his opinion. Frankly, none of this made sense to her either, but Darling was Darling, and her mind moved quicker than most did. At present, she had decided that this was far beyond her control, and he seemed nice enough, going so far as to get Harry a cake even.

"... Thank yeh, lass. Darling, was i'?" She nodded, flitting off to the kitchen.

Yelling ensued as soon as she did, and the night became fairly chaotic. When all was said and done, the Dursleys emerged unvictorious in their argument against the friendly, intimidating giant.

Darling was upset, to be honest, that Hagrid has given her brother a tail, even if he did deserve it. It was funny, but also a little worrying considering it was magic, and none of them were the least bit familiar with it. Dudley could've been permanently cursed, hexed or whatever it was, and Hagrid had offered no explanation for it, leaving abruptly with Harry before Darling could get any more questions in.

But Harry's sad, sad story preoccupied her thoughts more than the prospect of a pig-tailed (literally) brother. A boy who had everything and lost it all, turned over to relatives who were meant to look after him until he was old enough to reclaim his status as the Son of Lily and James Potter. They had died wrongfully, murdered by a force of evil that only Harry had somehow survived. And the more Hagrid spoke, the more her heart ached for the relatives she never got to know, for their son who was innocent in all of this and deserved a pair of good, loving parents, not this sorry excuse for relatives that had been thrust upon him.

And that evil was still out there.

Darling followed Hagrid to the door as her parents screamed and fussed over Dudley's new tail upstairs. "That was mean," she said, stopping the giant in his tracks. He turned around to look at her, a little grumpy, but she could see the apology in his eyes, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. "Sorreh, lass. Los' me temper. It'll wear off by 'morrow, promise." He said. "Now off ta' bed, Darlin'. Harry tuh. It's late, and yeh growing tot' need yeh good nigh's res'."

She frowned. There were many questions she needed answered, many things she had to know.

"Tell us more, about Lily and James." Harry hurried up to her side at this, at the names of his parents that he only knew from mentions. Not even pictures remained of them.

Hagrid paused.

"Lily an' James. Good people, oh, poor folks. Deserve' nunnah tha'. They loved yeh, Harry. So much. Yer dad was good and brave, yuh look jus' like 'im, did ah mention tha'?" He said, tears welling up in his eyes. The giant seemed so human now, just like the rest of them, mourning for people dear to him. Settled a hand on both their shoulders.

"Lily was a good woman, kind and spirited and the smartest witch o' 'er time. Yer eyes are jus' like 'ers." He paused again, staring intently at Darling. She fidgeted, under his scrutinising gaze.

"Yer definitely Lily's niece," he finally said, and she indicated her confusion with a curious tilt of her head.

"Yer almos' a spittin' image o' when she was 'bout yer age."


End file.
